


Step by Step

by rabble_dabble_writes



Series: Step by Step [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cheating, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Recovery, Regret, Suggestive Themes, aka i sacrifice davekat for what i want, but also johnkat jadkfjlskdf, dave does not deserve what i do with him, if i need to change the warning i will, it doesnt exactly uhhh go into it?? but it does describe like the event, its more about the poetics than the sex, the johnkat community is going to THROTTLE me, which is johnkat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabble_dabble_writes/pseuds/rabble_dabble_writes
Summary: “It was with another troll, Kanaya,” You cry to her, breaking each word over you. “A fucking troll.”“Karkat, come over. I understand, but I need you here if you want to talk properly.”“A troll!” You wail loudly, again and again. “A troll!! A troll. A fucking troll.”“Karkat! Do you want me to call Terezi to get you?”You sober quickly. “Oh fuck no. Then Serket will be with her and-”“Then come over. Now.”You hear a click.So much for supportive friends.You don’t even notice you're back on the road until you’ve got the windows rolled down and the stupid human-song station playing the most disgusting of teen-angst songs.You scream the lyrics into the wind, despite the fact that you’re not singing the lyrics but just your anger.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, John Egbert/Karkat Vantas
Series: Step by Step [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945609
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Step by Step

You’re hysterical. But to be fair, you got at least a few miles halfway between towns before you were required to pull over. 

Or you required yourself. It felt like a sudden pull, the bite of the lip that you managed to keep everything in before it _all_ just _flooded_ into you again and you _have to pull over or literally crash_. You’re sure that the few cars behind you are equivariant of a raised eyebrow from a middle-aged mom as they pass by, cruising but curious, but you don’t fucking care. You really don’t have the mind to think about it. You’re sobbing hysterically into the steering wheel, wearing sweatpants and a ramen-stained shirt with a thin jacket, and just _so_ uncomfortably aware of how you sound. You can’t tell if you’re a goddamn bear roaring or an ugly pug whining. You still continue to sob, despite one part of your mind telling you with clear clarity that you sound fucking _ugly_ crying. You sort of wonder if this is why some of your friends get concerned when you get teary-eyed at some of your romcoms.

Oh, and hey. Your phone is buzzing. It’s buzzing doesn’t feel like the “babe-please-it-was-just-a-mistake” buzz from a call but more “oh-shit-i-just-got-the-situation” that some along with having the friends you do. You sniff loudly, giving some half-hearted whimpers to wipe on your jacket sleeve and pull out your phone.

It’s Kanaya. Of course, it’s Kanaya. 

You swallow thickly before pressing the accept button.

“Where are you,” She asks strictly.

“Halfway between fuckknows and whocares. On interstate andapersonalfuckyou. Wanna know how fast I’ve been going?” Your voice gives out halfway.

“Come over,” She says.

“No,”

“Come _over_ , Karkat, or I will find you myself.” You hear mumbling in the background as if she’s shushing someone before her smothering voice comes back. Actually, you find yourself overwhelmed by her tone, even if it isn’t anything more than concerned. “If you’re going to do this, at least come over so you can be safe.”

A moment between you two, quiet, is all it really takes for your heart to jump between your lips. 

“It was with another _troll_ , Kanaya,” You cry to her, breaking each word over you. “A fucking _troll_.”

“Karkat, come _over_. I understand, but I need you _here_ if you want to talk properly.”

“A troll!” You wail loudly, again and again. “A troll!! A troll. A fucking troll.”

“ _Karkat!_ Do you want me to call Terezi to get you?”

You sober quickly. “Oh fuck no. Then Serket will be with her and-”

“Then come over. Now.”

You hear a click.

So much for supportive friends.

You don’t even notice you're back on the road until you’ve got the windows rolled down and the stupid human-song station playing the most disgusting of teen-angst songs.

You scream the lyrics into the wind, despite the fact that you’re not singing the lyrics but just your anger. 

* * *

You don’t feel less angry, but you feel tuckered out. Somehow you’ve ended up at the door. A friend’s door. Your knuckles feel numbly cold as you knock it. Like if it doesn’t feel quite real yet. 

You don’t know how you got here.

Despite her very stern tone, the first thing she does is hug you. You feel angry, and so so _so_ upset, but Kanaya feels warm. Very warm. It might be weird to smell her, despite the fact that you are really just trying to catch your breath and stop sniffling, but she smells like lavender soap and calming roughness, however that could be described. She makes you feel real. She lets it set in.

Oh god, you’re gonna be a fucking mess.

You sob loudly into her arm, but she leads you inside. You don’t see anything past a whirr of her living room, one of which you have been already but about to be thoroughly made acquaintances with, and you cry. She makes sure your stupid ass is parked softly into the cushions, somehow not even letting go of you, softly caressing you with her hand through your hair and talking to you and asking _Karkat are you okay_?

You are _not._ You are _so_ not.

She lets you cry for a while until she tries again. You sound like a soap opera. Or one of your dramas. At this point, you’re a little afraid of whether or not you’re crying or you _think_ you’re crying, but the assuring hand on your back doesn’t make you want to stop. You want to drown in your tears until you stop thinking, but for some reason, it just makes you think about everything on repeat. God, you got fucking cheated on! Your boyfriend, your lover, your best friend, just fucking ruined _everything_. Was it you? Fuck, you always knew it was you. You always knew that you weren’t good enough. He wanted more, something you couldn’t provide. Maybe you deserved it. You haven’t always been the best of a partner either. You made mistakes. He needed help. You should’ve _known_ from the start. You should’ve realized it wasn’t going to work. He needed something else, and that wasn’t you. You can’t stop thinking about the other being in his arms-

“Are you okay?”

You wail _loudly_. Not stuffing your face in her arm just makes you louder. “NO!! Nooooooo- Kanaya he fucking- Kanaya, I’m not-” You hiccup. “Kana-ya-ya-yaaa-”

She just shoves your face back into her arm, which is fair. You're sure no one wants to see the mess you are. But then she pushes you slightly back, and now you have a quilt over you that you think is meant to suffocate you to your peaceful death, and wow you are _so_ tired. Not tired enough to stop crying. Or making noises. It really feels like making crying noises is distracting you. Hey, is that your favorite rom-com on the television? And now you have tea in your hand, who fucking gave you tea in your-

So she distracts you. 

And you take a nap.

It’s like a tiny, empty break from your overrun emotions. You _know_ you’re emotional, and you _know_ that outside of it all there will be an end to the betrayal and the hurt and the anger you’re feeling right now. Fuck, you’ve come very close at times with being upset at a closer than close friend to have them do something so fucked, and you’ve forgiven them. You _know_ that a part of you will eventually come to terms, but you want so much to just be angry and be upset and cry and cry and cry. And this nap feels like a quiet, small _release_ from all these tense overworked feelings inside you. 

So she distracts you with your favorite show (new episode! It feels childish to register logically you are excited about it) and you take a nap. She’s like a goddamn witch. Suddenly you are in her caring arms and in the next moment you are waking up with bed hair, tear streaks staining her face and something smelling _really_ good. 

Obviously you feel like shit. And then your stomach grumbles.

You have two options: feel like shit. Or go get food.

Good thing you are a goddamn multitasker.

You find her in the kitchen, where Rose stands next to her. You wonder briefly if Rose was here all along. She might’ve been, fuck, you’re pretty sure she lives here. What you don’t expect is Jade next to her.

Jade Harley. Fuck, it's the cavalry. Jade and Rose and Kanaya all turn to you, quilt around your shoulders and ruffled couch hair and jacket still on from three hours ago to notice how much shit you look like. They are all just staring at you, and you them, but also you stare at the food behind them.

Fuck, you are hungry. 

Maybe you can make this not as awkward or uncomfortable as it could be?

You point at the food.

“The fuck is that?” 

Your voice cracks and is high and not at all as unemotional as you wanted it to be. You sound like you’re about to cry. You might. 

You sorta want to drop dead on the floor too though. 

You bargain for turning around and going to sit back on the couch. You don’t even wait for an answer. You’d rather that you sulk not where three of your caring friends would be. 

Of course, even though not immediately, they follow you. Kanaya hands you a plate that you practically claw at her arm for. You make sure to stuff your face so that you can’t answer their questions. Man, you probably look like shit. You’re crying a little bit. Makes whatever the hell you’re eating a little bit seasoned. Salty. Whatever. You don’t care. 

When you finish your last bite, your first sentence is, “Do not.”

They all give you weird looks.

“Do not..what?” Rose asks.

You don’t want to explain it. Banter you with questions? Ask about Dave? Asked what happened? If Kanaya called you then she must’ve known already, and she wouldn’t leave Rose out of it (despite the shared genetics Rose is _not_ visibly related to Dave) and if Jade is over here..

You swallow thickly what little protection you have left of yourself. “I don’t know. Just fucking don’t. I don’t think I can handle thinking about this right now.”

“Oh, Karkat,” Kanaya says, not trying to mock you. She puts her hand on your shoulder and you can’t help but lean a little into it. “You don’t have to say anything. And you can stay as long as you’d like.”

Oh fuck. You didn’t even think about the fact that you don’t even have a place to return you. Fuck if you’re going to go back ‘home’. 

You don’t speak again. For a while. They sit around you, on the couches, as you all sort of focus on the new episode. You stare at the TV, not quite capturing what happens, as you think more and more about him and what happened and how you feel. It builds up in you, as it did earlier, but for the second time, it just feels like a review. Nothing exactly new to note. You just feel a sense as if you shouldn’t hold it in any longer.

So you don’t. 

“I thought...I noticed he was double-checking shit.”

You can notice their eyes turn to you, but you don’t move. You fix your focus on the pixelated top corner of the television, where the decorated vines hang from their candle placements. You knew that Kanaya smells like lavender because of Rose’s candles. Why did you forget?

“He just. He started becoming more secretive? Or paranoid. Yeah. Paranoid. Just fucking spooked if I caught him at a weird time or glazing at me at realizing I was there because - hey! Karkat fucking Vantas lives with you, you know. Thought it was just a human thing. Just. Sometimes you forget shit and that’s understandable and really I didn’t think any more of it. Maybe I should have. And sometimes he’d just, he’d just act as if I knew something he knew but I didn’t know. Like a joke. But. I didn’t know.”

Your voice breaks again, softer. You don’t even notice the television sound being turned down. 

“I didn’t _know_ …”

Your eyes drift down, down, taking the edges in a carpeted beige floor. 

You hiccup.

“I thought...I didn’t think he’d…”

You lose your train of thought, but the blink of fresh cold tears down your face remind you of your place in Kanaya's house on her couch, cold and hot and angry and _so_ tortured by every emotion. It fucking hurts.

Your voice is small, hurt. 

“Was it.. _me_..?”

Kanaya’s hand suddenly startles you. Almost feels as if she slaps you. 

“Of course not! Karkat, you are not at _all_ the problem that has happened today, and for however long this has been going on for.”

Oh god, you didn't even register that you could've been cheated on at any time. 

Rose chimes in. “I can assure you, Karkat, that you are not the least bit of wrong that happened. It wasn’t a fault from your end. I know you’re prone to think that, but you are not at all what caused Dave to cheat.”

“But-”

“Karkat!” Jade’s voice interrupts. “Even now you are thinking about Dave and if _you_ were the problem! You’re not! You were not. You weren’t even the one to do anything. _Dave_ cheated on you. You didn’t. Cheating is definitely a problem _he_ did!”

You can’t bring yourself to retaliate. So you cry. You cry _so_ hard. It seems like this time they are all done with leaving you alone because now you can’t even move your arm to cover yourself with the quilt without having all of them on you. Kanaya's on the front wiping your tears, and Rose and Jade are backup asking you if you'd like anything, if they could do something at all to help, telling you things about how it's _not your fault_!!

But you _feel_ like it is, in some way. Why would he cheat, otherwise? Why would your best friend, the guy who gets you and your pissed off attitude at reality, the guy who you've told the stupidest shit too and understands you so deeply, hurt _you_?

Why would he do it? You're not even mad.

Okay, well, no, you are. But you're not logically registering it. You mentally can't. Dave _the cheater_ is _so_ vastly different from Dave, _your best friend_ or Dave _the boyfriend_ or Dave _the soulmate_. Dave _the cheater_ is like a sinister, dark entity of horrible emotions and betrayal and only the recent memory of himself compared to the other memories of him. It feels like he just isn't real. Like he is a fabricated, sinister joke against you and any moment he's going to come walking in from Rose's kitchen with a confetti popper and a sign that says _Surprise! It was a JOKE_ and let you beat his ass for being so cruel. Dave, _I love you_ is different from Dave, _I had regrets_.

The worst part was him _telling_ you. It was the normalcy of it. The way he breathed the words right out, no hitch or hesitation in his sentence, to tell you about he _made a mistake_ and he was _so sorry_ because _you don't deserve_ _this_ , and then admitted he cheated. How _he_ felt _so guilty_ about it, about you, and he loved you very much, you know? So he wanted you to know, because that'd be better than finding out, and _you deserved better._

If you fucking deserved better _THEN WHY DID HE FUCKING CHEAT?!?!?!?_

You wail. You're wailing. Loudly. You're gripping Kanaya tightly and telling her this, asking her, pleading with her to tell you _WHY DID HE CHEAT??_ and you feel so guilty, because you know she doesn't have an answer for you, and you feel like a failure of a friend as well as a failure of a partner. It is you who is the shitty person. She's doing the best she can, comforting you, rubbing your back, arguing with you. 

And suddenly, your brain distracts you. What are you going to do? Move your things out? What about bills? Gas? Your car is probably not taking up much of their driveway, but it's an embarrassing wreck in front of Kanaya and Rose's home. You're shaking, sobbing in Kanaya's arms, blubbering, and all you can think about is how much it's gonna suck telling everyone that you and Dave broke it off.

They always used to tell you two you were _perfect_.

You don't know how long it takes for it to stop. When time was too fast, it suddenly slowed to a snail pace and you have no idea when you went from 'hysterical' to 'numb'. Nothing and everything feels real at once. You're aware of the stain on your shirt, but you can't grasp what Kanaya is saying to you. Your hair feels greasy on your face, and you can't remember if you took a shower before you left. In a quick, numbing instant, you wonder what Dave is doing. He didn't follow you, and you've been gone for more than a few hours. You wonder, very briefly, if he is talking to the guy he cheated on you with.

You imagine that he called him, calling him over, saying, _Yeah, sorry, finally did it, the guy just took off._ _Finally._

For some reason, it makes you angry at the thought that Dave wouldn't even refer to you as you. Just _the guy_. _The dude_. Not even _my boyfriend_. Just. God. You suddenly hate him.

But you want to feel numb. You wipe your tears off your face. You feel _so_ tired. Suddenly, you're itching for a shower. You've evened your breathing. You make your body believe that nothing is happening anymore. It works. Now you just feel thirsty.

"I'm thirsty," you say, making the world blur and turn away. 

* * *

It's four whole days before you're surprised out of your hazy and automatic system of shutting yourself off and out, ranging from sleeping randomly to walking around Kanaya's home with Rose, pretending to be some sort of spectator of life and imagine yours as good as their own. 

"Man, you smell!"

Unaware to you, then, those would be the first words to begin you on your closure.

You open your eyes, and your face is filled with idiot.

You have to blink slightly before going, "What?"

He smirks at you. "You _smell_ Karkat! Did Rose just let you sit in her house in the same spot for a few days, or what?"

You want to say _pretty much_ , but you're still trying to process this conversation happening at all.

You sit up, letting the sleep seep out of your worn face from getting barely a few hours at a time. Your insomnia has skyrocketed ever since that first night. You scrunch up your face in disbelief that anyone at all would be talking to you like this. Especially in the state you feel. 

But for some reason, it makes you feel better. 

"It's not me, it's this poor excuse of a blanket. Imagine how long it's been knit to just sit damp in an attic until my sorry ass came along to cry into it. Not much different from its previous conditions."

"I think you've been contaminated, dude." John picks at your blanket with a careful finger, unexpectedly taking it from you and dropping it off around you. "Go take a shower! I'm taking you somewhere."

"But I don't even-" you start, before you have something thrown at you. Its clothes, not from your house, but definitely for you. The argument dies in your throat, as you look into his eyes and he smiles widely at you. You've always been weak against that smile. You obey and drag your body to one of the bathrooms. 

With the relief of finally cleaning yourself, you scrub vigorously at your skin. Sure, you have a little layer of dirt and grime to clean away, but really, you're trying to scrub away the memory of Dave. You make sure to take your time and the heat of the water makes sure to burn any terrible thought or feeling off you. You don't understand why it's suddenly so important to erase Dave from you. You scratch at your skin until it's raw and throbbing. 

When you get out, you look into the mirror. You think you look…

Well, you look like you just got told four days ago that your boyfriend cheated on you. 

So, tired. There's no comb but there's a brush you're sure Kanaya nor Rose will mind you using, and you use a toothbrush Jade had at some point handed to you to remind you of the events that had occurred, and as you brush your teeth absent-mindedly you put on the fresh clothes. A simple grey shirt, with no stains, a pair of jeans, a pair of socks, a pair of underwear. You briefly ponder if it's _John's_ underwear, but push away the idea before you get the urge to ask. When you look back into the mirror, you now think you look respectfully like any other tired energy drink addict who hasn't seen the sun in a week. The clothes make a statement in your mind that you're trying to be normal. 

And _that_ is a thought in itself. _Normal_ . Attempting to be _normal_ . Explaining to the world, to no one at all, _my boyfriend cheated on me so I'm trying to be normal again_. Going out with a friend to who-knows-where, a friend who brought you clothes and wants to take you somewhere and told you that you smelled enough for a shower. 

Your brain surprises you by thinking, _almost like a date_.

You shake your head and rush out of the bathroom like you're physically trying to escape your thoughts. He's sitting on the couch in your place, chatting to Rose, before he catches you and smiles. Suddenly, you feel weirdly appreciative you don't look like such a mess anymore.

"Ready to go?" He asks, as if you know anything.

"Go _where_ ," you inquire harshly, voice only tired slightly. You put on your jacket despite your complaining. "I have no idea what you're talking about or why."

"I'm taking you out of the house!" He states, all matter-of-factly. "Kanaya said I could."

So Kanaya arranged this? Does she want you to _leave_ _?_ You should've-

"I asked her, cause I figured that'd be better than showing up randomly and letting her assume you were kidnapped or something."

Almost as if he could read your thoughts. So, Kanaya _didn't_ arrange this. Egbert came of his own accord. That's believable.

You answer, "You still showed up randomly."

"Yeah, maybe to _you!_ Do you know you snore like a little kitten?"

He heard you _sleep?!?!_ You're embarrassed thoroughly. 

He pats you on the back, like it's a joke between you two. "Oh stop looking like you're about to barf! At least it isn't loud snoring. Come on, we gotta get going."

You want to protest, but Rose is just smiling calmly and Kanaya is urging you on, and suddenly you want _out_ and _away_ , no offense to Kanaya and Rose. You feel like the outside world is waiting for you, calling to you, and you practically run after him. You _need_ this, to run out of this house and run out of this state of feeling sorry for yourself. It feels like Egbert is about to take you on a journey, and you feel _excited_. 

He almost laughs at the way you jump into his car.

Your excitement tones down to a tolerable level as he drives you to wherever. The world passes by the car window, still as bright and as moving as ever, with other cars around the road and people walking down the sidewalks like nothing of importance happened at all. As if four days ago your boyfriend- _ex_ boyfriend- didn't admit to having an affair. The world rides on by, not caring about you or your feelings or Dave, and although that makes you feel angry for its ignorance, on another level, it feels like such a _relief_ that the world didn't stop. That it didn't pause and wait or coddle to you. You feel a hot sense of anger at the people talking normally to each other, the woman walking down exhausted by her baby stroller, the group of near adults laughing at some stupid joke together. But the world didn't stop like it should have, so you find an entire distraction from the fact yours felt like it did.

He stops and parks in front of a dark building, and you briefly consider that John might have actually used your weak state as a means to kidnap you. You're about to ask questions before he gets out, motioning for you to follow him, and you feel pretty silly for even considering the idea. He could have kidnapped you in _any_ state, not just from this one, and he could say please and thank you too. You grumble as you catch up to his side. 

Inside is a weird desk, where a bored lady sits. John hands her some money, and she hands him a card, and you're wondering what fucking exchange you just witnessed here. He leads you off to the side, though, and suddenly you get it.

He brought you to an _arcade_.

A very, very, big arcade.

You're reminded that you have never actually been in an arcade before. You're pretty sure Jade and John invited you and Dave, once, but he said he didn't like arcades and gave you an entire list about why that was so, and of course you stuck with Dave and stayed home to watch another episode of-

You think, then, you sort of wanted to go. But you wanted to be a supportive boyfriend. And it also would've been pretty shitty to leave him alone and feeling like a piece of shit for not going with you, even though he disliked them. So you stayed home.

Your eyes waver over the place. Laughing, screaming, lights shining and shimmering and advertising itself, the smell of sickly chocolate and sticky taffy is a permanent resident in the air. It looks like the place is marketed for mid-teens, capable of playing such machines, but you see a range of teething toddlers to apathetic adults playing all sorts of games. The lights are dimmed and the room looks dark, but everything is _ignited_ and _alive_ that it makes you want to puke. 

"You brought me," you say slowly, trying to process it all. "To an _arcade_?"

"Yup!" He responds, and then slaps your back. He holds out the card in front of you with a bright smile. "What'd you wanna do first?"

Oh god, what do you want to do _first_ _?_ There's a _list_ _??_ He's asking _you!?!?_

"I.." your eyes wander, and then land on something _perfect_. 

A fucking punching machine. A human makes a pitiful attempt in front of his trolls friends to score high; ends up average. His friends console him accordingly, walking away with their ticket prize. The lights beckon to you in pink and red, mocking you lightly. 

You point at it with a hunger.

"I wanna do _that_ ,"

"That?" He asks, almost surprised, but not quite. Like he _knows_.

"That," you confirm, and before you realize it, you're already walking towards it. 

John slides the card in, the machine stirs up, and then tells you to get ready. You stance yourself in a near-strife position, and are prepared when it finally challenges you. 

You take a breath, and then let everything in you swing at that stupid punching machine like it's the cause of all of your problems.

You score high. Not high enough, even with the tickets. You make Egbert swipe the card again, breathless.

You score the _highest_ . You're a little afraid you've broken it, but it rings out loudly, giving you congratulations, and spouts out a _lot_ of tickets. John laughs and laughs, and some people around to have noticed your accomplishment are giving you praise, and you're giggling a little bit. John looks ridiculous with the amount of tickets in his arms. 

"You look like an idiot," you tell him. You feel immensely bright and better. 

He smiles cheekily at you. "You look like you're having fun! What's next?" 

You ask him to choose, and he picks this weird two-player shooting game on a widescreen. It's loud, and sort of annoying, but you're too caught up in having fun to complain much. There's another set on the next screen over, and apparently you can arrange in teams, so the next set of strangers (two troll girls, one with a ponytail and one with tattoos) you challenge in a competition. You barter on a few of your precious tickets, and come out losing, but they give you a thumbs up for being a goodhearted loser. John doesn't even mind the lost tickets, and pulls to another game, so unfamiliar to you that he has to explain it before you get it. That's how the entire trip goes, in a screaming, laughing moment, where you can't distinguish when you got here or how long you've been here. There's too many games and you know you can't get through them all, so you give your best to the ones you do play and end up with more tickets than you could ever need. John doesn’t let any thoughts of Dave or feeling sorry for yourself sink in, and you’re glad for it. He doesn’t even use quiet, patient moments of waiting in line for a turn of using another arcade machine to ask questions. You feel thankful, because after a few days of pampering Kanaya, you don’t need to be consoled or questioned. You don’t need a consoling, sorrowful friend. You just need a _friend_. And John turning up and forcing you to come to an arcade seems like a perfect twist of fate. 

When you’ve gathered enough tickets to warrant suspicious looks from security, you and Egbert head for the prizes. You don’t really see anything interesting enough to get, except for maybe the stupid little trinkets at the bottom, but John’s eyes land on the most _ridiculous_ prize you have ever seen. 

It’s a giant stuffed salamander. 

He’s practically jumping up and down around you, asking- no, _begging_ you for it with his eyes, and you almost feel a delightful swirl of genuine happiness when you agree that he can have your tickets, so as long as you can get the stupid sticky toy thing at the bottom. Somewhere it rings in your mind that the both of you absolutely look ridiculous, with you smiling at your plastic stick prize and him overjoyed with a giant fucking stuffed red salamander in his arms. You plan on throwing the sticky bitch at his glasses later, unbeknownst to him, as revenge for making you come here. The salamander is compensation. Somehow, by sheer luck, the both of you still have some tickets leftover that you give a stunned human kid who seems to be unable to believe that John and you earned enough tickets to get a prize like _that_ , and you leave him in silence as his parents start to worry about how they’re ever going to fit that in their minivan. And then you start wondering how exactly that’s going to fit in his car. Or his house, for that matter. 

He fits it in the back seat. 

“You’re _ridiculous_ ,” you tell him for the fifth time. He rolls his eyes at you. You think about the sticky toy wrapped in plastic in your pocket, ready to meet the world and John’s face. 

“Listen, can you imagine having a five-foot red stuffed salamander in _your_ life? It’s fucking awesome! I’m putting this baby on full display.”

You shake your head, settling yourself in the car as he struggles to settle the stupid stuffed thing in his back seat. He finally manages to do so when you turn around to look at him, and as if for added embarrassment, he buckles the thing in.

“John, it’s a stuffed animal, where is it going to _go_ ,” You state. 

“Not risking it!” He replies, slamming the door and jumping into the driver’s seat. 

“Only _you_ would be worried about your five-foot red stuffed salamander being injured because it didn’t have its fucking seat belt on.” You mean it as an insult, but you’re too giggly for it to come out as mean as you want it to be, and he just smiles wryly at you. 

“You’re just jealous,” He replies mockingly, ignoring your eye roll to start the car.

“Sure, of a fucking _stuffed animal_ ,” You mumble.

He pats your arm before driving out. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re the second most important priority in the car!”

You want to argue, so fucking badly, but to your dismay his joke makes you laugh. Does he think you’re an easy target just because you’re sad!? Well he’s fucking right, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be happy that his jokes are suddenly funny to you. 

The ride back to Kanaya’s feels too fast. Or too short. One of the two, the fact that you feel as if there isn’t enough time in the world to talk to John Egbert, or to capture this feeling in a state of forever so that you don’t feel like a sorry ass or be reminded how horrible you’ve been feeling these past few days. Going back sort of feels like going back into that state, in which you know isn’t down with you yet, and you don’t want to be ready for it. If John senses your sudden fear, he doesn’t mention it. 

“So,” He says suddenly, when the conversation starts dropping just a bit. “How long do you think you’re going to stay with Kanaya and Rose?”

You look out the window, not ready to talk about it yet. Not wanting to taint the quick relief of fun you had with talk of Dave. “I don’t know, really. Probably as long as they’ll let me. But I also don’t want to be a bother to them.”

You can sense his question, his _So what are you going to do?_ And truthfully, you don’t know. You don’t want to go back ‘home’ yet. You don’t want to see Dave. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you, talking to you, or taking your things to somewhere he can’t reach you. It’d be better if it was seamlessly done, like a transition in movies, where suddenly the protagonist is alone in a place they can barely afford and ready to start moving on. You really don’t know what you want to do. 

You sort of want it to be a joke, a big fat joke, but over the past few days it’s settled that it’s _really_ not a joke. You ironically sort of want Dave to wrap his arms around you, tell you it’ll be okay, tell you you’ll get through this, but a part of you shrinks at the idea of him touching you. At the idea that he touched someone else, held someone else, possibly told him the same thing, and your brain tells you that you’re not special. You know if he does do what you want, you won’t feel special. You’ll feel sick, icky, feel a sense of betrayal that hands you know, knuckles you’ve traced and fingers you’ve held, has done the same with someone _not you_.

“Well,” He breaks you from your thoughts. “I thought, maybe, if you were okay with it, you could always take a place in my house.”

Your surprise must show on your face, betraying you, as you turn to him, because he pats you lightly on your arm with a nervous smile.

“I’m not saying it has to be, like immediately! And you won’t have to feel guilty about it, I’m one guy living in an entire house alone. I’ve got plenty of room. Honestly, I could fit four or five stuffed salamanders into my house and there’d _still_ be enough room for you and me.”

You want to say something, but words stick in your throat. You want to argue, because your heart is telling you that you’d be a burden, you’d be a slouch moping on his couch and you don’t want to take a permanent burdensome resident in his house. You don’t want John to deal with you, because Kanaya and Rose already do, and you know how tired she is already. More friends caring about you means more friends burdened by your problems. 

But even with his eyes focused on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, it’s the other hand that bothers you so much. It’s not even touching your skin, but you can feel its heat through the layers. It’s not pampering, not like Kanaya’s suffocating hugs so you don’t hear yourself sob, but it’s...

It feels nice. Like comfort. Soft, gentle, not a _i feel sorry for you_ but a _i’m a friend who cares about you and am genuinely offering you to not feel like a sad sack of shit_.

He’d say it nicer, though, something like, “I’m one guy living in an entire house alone. I’ve got plenty of room,” and “there’d _still_ be enough room for you and me.”

_If you were okay with it_ , as if you’d ever be okay with it. 

“Okay,” You say, not looking at him, because you know it’s going to make him ask more questions and you really don’t want that. “I’ll think about it. I’m not...I don’t know, yet, I still got to get my shit somehow. But. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“Cool,” And you hear just how _nice_ his voice sounds, filled with joy at the fact that you might seriously take his offer. As if he cares. 

You’re starting to suspect he might. 

It’s too soon and you’re back in Kanaya’s driveway, and you’re out of the car before anything else can be said and you topple over in a mound of emotions. He nods at you, like you’ve come to an understanding, and echoes you, “Think about it?”

You nod, confirming. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

His smile is warm, comforting, and you’re glad you said that. “‘Kay. Take care of yourself, Karkat.”

You’re too thickly close to crying again so you shake your head, waving to him, and turn away to walk to the door. Fuck, you’re seriously considering it. You’re not sure, though. Living with John is something you haven’t done before. What if it’s weird? What if it’s awkward? At least at Kanaya’s, you’re not exactly too worried she might say something about your weirdness to other people. You could stumble down a pair of stairs and die in front of her, and she’d probably stick your sickles in your hand and adjust you before running to the others and informing them you died fighting instead of stupidly. She’s nice like that. 

You open the door, and thoughts of Kanaya’s niceness disappear into the wind behind you. 

On the couch, as if caught red-handed, Rose, Kanaya, and _Dave_ fucking sits. There. In front of you. Pausing mid-conversation as if you fucking _interrupted something_.

You catch Dave’s eyes, and the thing that you think is that you can’t even fucking tell if he’s distraught. At all. An immense feeling of _hate_ comes over you, at the fact he looks so fucking normal, like any other day, chatting with Rose and Kanaya like he didn’t fucking _betray_ you and your heart, and that he’s wearing those stupid shades and his face looks normally avoid of emotion like it always does.

He can’t even have the decency to look like a piece of shit. 

“Karkat-”

You barely let the name slip out of his mouth before you turn back, slamming Kanaya’s door, and promptly walk back to John’s car. He hasn’t left yet, and is suddenly surprised by your re-appearance. 

“Uh,” he says, not expecting you. He raises an eyebrow, hands on the wheel ready to leave, and you’re so fucking thankful he didn’t leave yet. Your stare catches him off guard, and his sentence dies in his eyes. 

“Thought about it,” You say emotionless, hopping back in. “Turns out I’m pretty okay living with you for now.”

He chortles a laugh, and you take a breath. It’s okay. You don’t have to be here. You can leave now. John offered and you are taking it. He is _okay_ with you. You should be too. With yourself. You still feel regretful, though.

“Can we go?” You ask, voice wavering, breath cut short and shallow, squinting your eyes so you don’t cry. You can see the door starting to open. You don’t want to know who it is. You don’t want to see any of them. 

“Sure!” Bright, cheery, as if something didn’t happen to you. You pretend you didn’t see Dave. You pretend that you just never left the car, and that you immediately decided to go hang with John. The car turns before the door is opened enough for you to see the other side. Grass and sun greet you outside the window, and you think, _thank motherfucking god_. You pretend you’re okay. 

John doesn’t say anything else as he drives off, as you catch back your breath, and as you try not to break into a million pieces again. You don’t want to give Dave the metaphorical satisfaction that you broke after seeing him for a few moments. The car ride is quiet, slow tempered, and when the silence gets suffocating John has the foresight to turn on the car radio at a pitch that’s only heard when a car is truly silent. 

If he sees you crying silently away from him, he doesn’t say anything, but puts his hand back onto your arm as you let yourself feel what you have been trying to avoid for the past four days. Which is, of course, what you think is the feeling of heartbreak.

* * *

He lets you carry in the stupid salamander. You forget to throw the sticky thing at his face, so he’s safe, for now. You cuddle the stuffed animal on the couch for who knows how long, as if you naturally belong on couches now, Karkat Vantas’ natural habitat, here he lies open ranged and taken care of. Rawr, you’re a fucking endangered animal. And you’re tired. So tired. You think you spent most of your energy laughing and then immediately being upset. Wild mood change. At some point you’re handed a plate of food, something you don’t even register until you’re eating, and John’s talking your ear off like there’s no goddamn tomorrow, as if you’ve always lived here. The salamander ends up between the two of you, because you feel guilty for sort of stealing it, but he’s laughing like that’s his only thing he’s good at. After the food disappears you feel more tired than you’ve ever been, and you barely register the blanket over you as you sigh yourself into a deep sleep.

“Rest well, buddy,” is the last thing you hear, and it makes you want to laugh.

* * *

You wake up to the smell of eggs. And humming. Well, it’s more like an open-mouthed singing tune that you’re not used to. In any case, you wake up hungry. Groggy. You slept in yesterday’s clothes. You don’t mind this fact until you follow the sound and smell into the kitchen. 

Your eyes immediately catch his fucking boxers. _Ghosts_. Of course he would. You bark out a laugh.

He turns around, surprised, but then smiles widely. “Karkat! You’re up!”

You have to lean against the doorway for support. You tear your eyes away from his butt to his face. 

“What?” he asks, ridiculously immune to whatever your thought process is. 

You catch your breath before you say in a strained voice, “The _boxers_.”

He looks down at his legs, as if realizing he didn’t have pants on. He _should_ be embarrassed. You’re a guest. An emotionally unstable guest. A best friend guest!!

He shrugs nonchalantly. “This was as close as I could get to slimers.”

You shake your head. And then you motion towards the food. “Eggs?”

“And pancakes!!” he replies, showing off proudly a plate of exactly that. “Thought you might be hungry since you had a wonky eating schedule. 

You approach him, eyeing the plate of pancakes and the pan of eggs. “What, Kanaya tell you that?”

He quickly laughs, trying to brush it off, but his reaction makes you think it’s true. You wonder what Kanaya and Rose and John all talked about before you woke up. You can’t imagine it was anything you’d like to have heard. 

“That done yet?” You point to the eggs. 

He motions to the pancakes. “In a sec! You can have some pancakes, if you want, you know. I didn’t make all of these for myself!” 

You hesitate, with awkward guest-ness, before grabbing out a plate and silverware. It seems like he doesn’t mind you much grabbing your own plate, but it still feels weird too. Like it’s common courtesy to ask. But he already told you you could, so that’d just make it awkward. 

Or maybe it’s just you and you’re weird. 

You chuckle at the thought before eggs somehow join your pancakes, and you look up to him. 

“Thanks,” You say sheepishly. Earns you a nice smile. 

“No problem!” He replies, and you try to take it to heart. He gets his own plate and leads you to the couch. You don’t mind when he turns the television on and you eat in silence. 

Still feels weird, here. You can’t remember the last time you visited. Actually, you don’t think visits to John are normal at all. It’s always John coming over. To be honest, you can’t imagine living alone every day, having friends come over and fill the house, just to have them leave and leave the silence of loneliness behind. Not like you invited any of your friends over when you lived alone. Well, to be fair, you also had your lusus, who reminded you often that he was there. John doesn’t have his Dad to remind him of that. He lives completely alone. 

You look over, suddenly feeling pity. John, unaware of you staring, just keeps eating and watching TV. The overwhelming thought of _When did you last visit?_ echoes loudly in your head. You really don’t remember.

And yesterday, as if by a miracle, John came and whisked you away on a journey to have fun and get your emotions out. The permanent reminder of a prize sits a few feet away from you, almost cowering over you to remind you how he came to help. He didn’t even ask for anything in return. And he _paid_ for all of it. Sure, you’re all rich, but that doesn’t make you feel any less guilty. He didn’t hesitate to come over, kick your ass into some fun, and even offered you a place to stay, where you wouldn’t feel like a shithead for staying. And you can’t even fucking remember when the last time you _talked_ to John was. 

Finally, he must sense you staring at him, because he looks over again with a raised eyebrow. He swallows whatever he’s chewing before going, “What? Something on my face?”

“You’re a good friend,” You say, before you know it’s coming out of your mouth. “And I’m an asshole.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, like _you’re_ the ridiculous one somehow. “Come on, dude! You’re a good friend too. Don’t put yourself down.”

You lean over towards him, putting your hand on his shoulder, and look him right in his eyes. “John, no, you don’t understand. I can’t believe I have a friend like you. You just..you didn’t even have to do anything and you did anyway.”

His face gives, and his smile starts to disappear, but not as if he’s upset. You see him think, before saying quieter, “Karkat, I..of course, we’re friends, why wouldn’t I?”

You bite your lip in the hopes that you won’t start bawling. He shouldn’t have to feel like that. As if it’s a duty to come to your rescue and help just because you’re friends. Why does he feel that way?

But before you can say anything, he’s putting aside his plate, arms circling around you, going, “Oh, _Karkat_ , man,” and hugging you. 

Oh. Wow. Hugging. Why is he hugging you? You didn’t even do anything to-

“Stop thinking so much, idiot,” John says, striking your thoughts through the heart, killing them before they can become something more, something worse. “I _wanted_ to. We’re _friends_. Do not feel bad about it. As your friendleader, I declare it illegal!”

You laugh, slightly, if just to make some noise other than crying out. You _really_ don’t think you deserve this. This friendship. You’ve been- you’ve been a bit of a neglectful friend lately. Hiding out in your home. With Dave. 

Not that it’s Dave’s fault. The two of you are really- just god awful at social interaction. Socially hanging out with friends. Just. Asking if they ever wanted to do anything. How they were doing. How long it’s been since you last talked. 

And yet, he still managed to fucking cheat on you. Thoughts swell dangerously in your mind, in your heart. 

It’s like he’s trying to squeeze all these thoughts out of you, away, in this Egbert hug. It’s an Egbert-Harley thing, you know. All of your other friends hug you gently, as if you might break. John and Jade hug you as if they’re determined to be the ones to break you. 

Maybe he will, a little bit. Just a little bit, though. 

“I’ll,” You start, attempting to think of words that won’t make him think you’re thinking like what you have been. “I’m sorry,” is all you come up with. 

“No!” He yells, right into your ear. Ow. “No, no, don’t apologize. That is a thing that doesn’t need to happen. You don’t have to feel sorry.”

Really, but you can’t _help_ it. 

“It’s hard, I know,” He whispers this time, as if really hearing your thoughts. “But I promise you, Karkat, there’s no reason to be. Okay? No reason.”

You take a moment, before nodding, repeating, “No reason,” and he finally relaxes. You try, you try so hard to believe him. He _offered_ . He _wanted_ to do these things for you. He sees your friendship as a good thing, a thing he wants to just have with you. If you could just stop feeling guilty. That’s what he wants. Just you to accept he does things for you. 

You pull yourself out of the hug, wiping your eyes with your sleeves, trying to give him a smile but instead giving him a wavering one. Your mind is tearing at you. 

“Sorry for being a big trouble,” you try to make up, trying to find the right words, falling short and back onto what you know to apologize best for. “Didn’t mean to make you worried.”

He gives you a soft smile. And then points to the stuffed salamander. 

“Priority, remember? If it makes you feel any better, I was kidding about the salamander.”

You laugh, because that’s absolutely ridiculous that he’d think you’re anywhere _near_ upset at him because of the fucking _salamander_. 

Then you remember the sticky toy, and every other worry is forgotten.

* * *

John doesn’t mind you over. In fact, it seems like John _flourishes_ with your company. And he doesn’t let you alone, not at all, with your thoughts. The two of you play games and you steal his clothes because you don’t want to go back home and he plays pranks on you in retaliation of the sticky toy, and then that starts an entire chain of revenge from the both of you that, at the end of one day, leaves you soaking and tired and somehow gleeful in the front yard. He doesn’t fail to make you laugh. 

And Kanaya comes over, to apologize, to tell you that Dave ended up at the house of his own accord, him and Rose were arguing about the situation, but you really don’t care and just hug her tightly enough to shut her up. You know she’s trying to swallow back her own apologies, but you tell her that it _doesn’t_ fucking matter. She’s your friend. She took care of you. You’re okay. She sneaks you some of your things you’d rather not even step foot into that house to get, giving you your phone and some clothes and some of your movies. She’ll come back later, when you want her to, to return the rest, or as much as she can. You smile and thank her. She leaves you feeling refreshed. 

You feel bad enough not to take a room. The couch ends up as your bed, and spare blankets as your covers. Everything within the living room is your domain. You’ve made sure most of your things are in your sylladex, away and packed away and not bothering John’s space. 

But for some reason, this bothers him.

He asks you why you don’t move into a spare guest bedroom, when he has, oh, _so_ many empty rooms.

“Because I don’t,” you start, “I don’t want to take up any more room than I have to. If I move into a room, it might be a _permanent_ room, and I don’t want to do that to you.”

He argues and picks at you, and you bite back helplessly, and it’s not until one day that he comes up with a so-called _compromise_.

“A sleepover!” He says excitedly, as if you’re six and a half sweeps again. 

“What,” You state blankly. 

“We can pretend it’s a sleepover, and we can play some games in my room, and you can finally sleep in a proper bed!” He shakes you, as if trying to pass on this disease called ‘happiness’ he tries so often to diagnose you with. “I mean, I hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable if it’s the same bed with me. But at least you’ll finally sleep in one? Maybe I can find a way to get the guest bed into my room, or call up Jade and get some twin beds so we can both get one to ourselves-”

“If I say yes, will you shut up?”

“Sure!!” He says, before not shutting up. At all. 

You still say yes. Because why not. And because it sounds fun. 

For a while, the two of you just do what you normally do and hang out. Around evening, though, he shows you his new playable station he just got for games (“I needed two players! Jade doesn’t really like video games, though.”) in which you promptly beat his ass to hell. He’s so pissed it’s funny. You think you’re a raging addict, but watching him is like watching a fat toddler in a candy store get told he’s not going to get anything. Honestly, you think he could match you for raging fits. And you tell him so, which makes him flustered and more upset, and you’re _absolutely_ laughing your ass off.

Then, feeling sorry for him, the two of you watch one of his movies. He tries to convince you on it, through the entire movie giving some sort of feedback commentary, but to be honest, you saw Con Air one of the first nights you crashed here. And your low expectations have been sinking ever since. Because there’s _no way_ you’re ending the night on such garbage, you pull out a goddamn masterpiece of a film. A story in which a guy with no memories ends up in a place like a maze, trying to find his way out with others and finding a kismesis, moirail, and almost-matesprit along the way. The awesome thing is that the moirallegiance is what’s focused on the most, a striking heart-wrenching adventure/romance that you know will capture Egbert’s attention _and_ yours. A _compromise_ , you air quote to him. He doesn’t seem to understand, though, that he’s supposed to be captivated by the movie, and ends up distracting you with popcorn, so that when the twist comes around you have to shove your hand in front of his mouth to stop him from talking, and take in the movie. After it’s over, he complains and complains, so you throw a pillow at him, and he does the same, and it escalates into a fight. Finally, with both of your energy spent, and reaching a truce, you climb into bed, and fall asleep.

You don’t know about John, but sometimes, when you’re feeling too emotional or too spent by feelings, you have nightmares. After the few weeks of feeling horrible about Dave, and yourself, you should’ve known that it would’ve happened eventually. It’s something like karma that after all the time you’ve been enjoying yourself, they come back to haunt you in the only time you could have some rest. 

You sit up, wide awake, gasping because of something that already slips from your mind, but you have a feeling was about Dave. You quickly quiet yourself, calm down your breathing enough to make it sound like you’re fine, but you feel yourself shaking despite the thick covers, and your eyes flint across the dark room to find some sort of stable ground. You have to remind yourself you’re in John’s room, having a sleepover, and not in the depths of horror your mind provided you in your nightmare. You had hoped that you quieted yourself enough to go back to sleep, to forget this happened in the morning when John and you make breakfast, but you feel him stirring next to you, and it’s too late to tell him to go back to bed. 

“Karkat?” He mumbles, voice strained and low, thick with sleep. “You ‘kay?”

“‘M fine,” You reply, looking at his lying form. “Don’t worry about me.”

He’s quiet, for a while, and you think he’s gone back to sleep, but his arm moves and his hand encompasses yours in a startling move. You’re stunned into silence. 

“You’re shaking,” He says, clearing his voice. “I’m gonna worry even if you don’t tell me.”

You lower your head in shame, before you reply in a whisper, “Just a nightmare. I’m fine.”

He grunts, probably his sleepy version of a laugh, and argues, “Liar.” He tugs at your shirt with his other arm, trying to get you to lay back down. “Lay with me, I’ll protect you from the nightmares.”

You laugh lightly, not wanting to break the silence any more. “Are you hearing yourself right now, Egbert?”

“Karkat, c’mon.” He holds out his arms, like a little kid, making his hands do a “gimmie” motion, and even in the dark you can see his smile. “I’m the knight in shining armor. The dreamcatcher. Nightmare fighter. Certified sleeping puncher person. Not punching the person, punching the-”

“Shut up,” You say, but without malice, and you let yourself fall into his arms. It’s not so bad. He’s warm, and humming, and obviously he’s going to fight your nightmares off. God, you can’t believe you thought that. “You’re dumb.” Meaning it more to yourself than him.

“Mmmmhmmm,” He says in an agreeing tone, which probably means he’s already falling back asleep. Not that you’re not following him. You can feel yourself get drowsy, and really, it’s nice to be tired. “Your John. Dumb certified.”

You’re losing yourself to sleep and warmth already, but you can’t help it when your thoughts catch onto his words. _Your John_ . As if he’s giving himself to you. Faintly, you try to recall if there was ever a time Dave told you that he was _Your Dave_. You don’t really think so.

_Your John_. You fall asleep smiling.

* * *

So you’ve both become ‘gossip’. 

Kanaya and Rose aren’t chatterboxes. If asked to keep a secret, they start the trials of a blood oath. You know you can depend on them to keep their mouths shut, as they have an uncanny ability to not stir in the drama your friends tend to have, admittedly. 

It’s _Jade’s_ fault.

Jade tells John, which is how you suspect he got around to taking you to the arcade after he heard and got prepared. And then Jade told Jake, and Jake can’t keep a secret for his life, so he spilled that to the Alphas. And the Alphas are chatty, so it’s no wonder that Terezi and Vriska heard, after all. You bet Terezi is still in contact with the _cheater_ (you refuse to even think his name now; it’s a phase, John says,) and also heard from around the group, probably pestered Kanaya enough to spill a little more, and now it’s why she and Vriska are currently sitting in your - _John’s,_ you mean John’s - living room, smiling like she knows everything and probably very much does. 

You had walked into the living room, planning on moving your blankets to your room (he finally managed to convince you, but you usually find yourself sleeping in his room anyway) and then was greeted with the site of both of them sitting there, smiling, not saying a word. And your first thought was: 

_Oh god they’re gonna give me a pep talk_.

“Karkat!” Terezi exclaims, sounding out each syllable like she’s tasting it. Probably is, too, with her weird tasting thing. “So good to see you.”

“Uh,” You reply, lost for words, because Terezi and Vriska are sitting in your - _JOHN’S!!!_ \- living room, and they’re smiling at you sweetly. 

“What, surprised to see us?” Vriska replies, giving a toothy, sharp grin. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

You try to find your footing. “Yeah, I could only imagine why that is.” You can’t think about how creepy their symmetry is, the timing of their movements, _god_ your friends are just weird. 

“Don’t say that! You missed us,” Terezi says, getting softer, and for a moment you believe her. “Ha! So sad, really.” Aaaand moment ruined, suddenly, and now you want them out.

“What do you want?” You ask, getting irritated. 

“We don’t want a thing!” Vriska says mockingly, as if she’s offended you accused such a thing. “We just came to check by and see how you’re doing with Egdummy.”

“Fine, thank you very much,” In saying this, you approach them, but only to grab at the blanket flowered on the couch cushions and stuff it into your sylladex. “John is very nice, and very kind, and he even gave me my own room that I’m just at this point stuffing shit into.”

Both of them exchange a look, before giggling weirdly. You raise an eyebrow, and turn to walk away, but what Terezi says next makes you curious.

“You say that as if it’s an odd thing,” She mutters, knowing you can hear her, and you turn back to her. 

“What do you mean?” You growl. 

“I can mention, Karkat, that you’ve never been very good at admitting you like someone’s company,” Vriska replies for her, matter-of-factly. “We just mean that it’s sort of odd hearing you say that so openly.”

“It’s _John_ ,” You point out. “We all say that about John. It’s not weird at all.”

“I don’t know,” Terezi replies, mockingly worried. “It was hard to hear you say anything about Dave when you were with him.”

His name only stirs the faintest of anger and hurt, but you brush it away. “I said plenty of things about Dave and his ‘good’ qualities. And besides, Dave and John are two different people. What does it matter?”

Terezi shrugs, like she doesn’t even know what’s being talked about. “What does it matter, indeed?”

“Are the two of you just going to keep bothering me or get to the point already-”

And then John’s voice rings out, clear and sweet, and unknowing of the conversation he interrupts. 

“Hey Karkat! That new episode you wanted to watch is soon, better hurry up with that blanket!”

You jump, before replying back, “Okay!!”

And then you turn to look back at the girls. “Anyway-”

But you stop.

Their looks, scarily in sync once more, are ones of curiousness. It’s like they’re studying you, seeing something in you that you can’t see yourself, and it makes you startled. They don’t even look malicious, or as if they want to make fun of you. They just look really, really curious.

About _what?_

What could be so curious about _you?_

“I’m really glad that you’re happy,” Terezi says softly, and this time, you’re inclined to believe her. “It really seems like you’ve adjusted to a life without him.”

You swallow pride to answer, and look towards the stairs, where you know it leads to John’s room and he’s preparing a night for binge-watching your favorite show. “It helps a lot when you have a friend who cares a lot about you.”

And you feel a great swell of something bright, bubbly, making you feel breathless. In a random, startling thought, you think about how it might be like to live like this forever. With John. 

You can’t imagine it’s that bad. 

You hear rustling, and it’s the Scourge Sisters, leaving with smiles you don’t understand. 

“He _does_ take reaaaaaaaal good care of you, doesn’t he?” Vriska asks, before she’s out the door. 

“I-”

“Karkat,” Terezi grabs your full attention, and in this clear moment, you think about how good she’s been to you. “You deserve to be happy, you know. With whoever. However you want it.”

You nod, because you’ve heard this from John before. He tells you this often, actually. “Yeah. I’m pretty happy here.”

“Don’t let it go,” She replies so quietly, and then she’s gone, out the door, following a person who makes _her_ happy. 

You stand there, quiet, thinking, for a full moment. 

She said something about you, being happy, however you wanted it. With _who_ ever you wanted it with. You’d imagine this applies to friends, people you consider family, but for some reason, you don’t think she meant it that way. 

Dave used to make you happy. He used to make you laugh, used to make you high with feelings and thoughts, and so heavily understood in a pain you both shared. It felt like, for a moment, the two of you were two pieces together, against the reality of conditions given to you, and that you could go against it forever. 

But you don’t want to. Seems contradictory, to think that you used to just _despise_ fate and life. It is a complete, utter, shitless lie. But really, nothing is ‘reality's’ fault here. It’s just what other people do with it, how they experience it, how they make it shape their life. 

It’s Dave, unsure of himself, cheating on you with another troll, afraid of what you’d think. 

And really, that did make you think.

You think it was pretty fucking shitty of him. 

But..what makes you happy now?

Shitty movies. Video games. Romcoms. Kanaya- no, _friends_ visiting. Going to shitty, shitty arcades. Movie nights. Eating breakfast not alone. Being comforted from nightmares. Being told that you deserve to be happy. Being told to hurry because your show is starting soon. 

_John_. 

Oh. 

John makes you very happy. 

That’s not something you thought could happen. 

But it seems too late for you. It feels like being clear from a sense of confusion, a thought scrambled by emotions and sleep and everything else mildly irritating in life. It’s become so clear to you.

You think, maybe, just maybe, you might be in love with John.

* * *

Nothing comes from this realization. Nothing differentiates, because you don’t tell him. Not yet. You’re not ready, you don’t think. You just got over Dave, probably, and you don’t want to immediately go into the next relationship you yearn for because you’ve realized you might be a little in love. Nothing changes from movie nights, where he laughs and whispers stupid things into your ear to make you giggle, nor does anything change about eating with him except maybe you scooting a little closer, and definitely fully there is no change about the fact that maybe when the two of you go to bed at night, nearly cuddling close, that you stay awake for just a bit to watch him fall asleep and dream peacefully, because it fills your heart. It’s not like you change yourself, or the way you act, or how you’ve been doing things. You just suddenly pay attention more, because maybe you want to be caught. Maybe you like the way he lingers questionably on your face when you catch his eye, then gives you a funny face that sends you snorting into the next room. Maybe you like the fact that his fingers naturally curl around yours, gently and slowly, whenever the two of you find a really good romance action filler, and you say nothing but pull closer. Maybe you want to be sent breathless when he looks at you like- like- like you’re a goddamn precious jewel of the world, and he couldn’t be happier to be near you. At least he echoes these feelings; or maybe you’re echoing him. Maybe the two of you are dancing in a tale of follow-the-leader, where you helplessly become happy and grinning when he _looks_ at you. It’s so hard to just not take his hand and never leave, ever. Not even for bathroom breaks, you think. 

But you don’t do a thing. Because you don’t want to, yet. You have a certain set fear, a ball in your stomach, that he might not return feelings. And you’re still getting over Dave, mostly. You _are_ over Dave. You’re just not over the fear of another relationship, yet, you think.

And yet, you’re pretty stupid by not trying to follow your own rule. The steps in not falling more in love with him. You try to purposefully think of Dave, trying to become sadder, but it just doesn’t work. John talking your ear off about his new movie obsession fills you with confused happiness. Bellowing love. Airy feelings of light. 

There are so many synonyms for love, really.

You slip up, because he’s concerned for you, as he always is. But in this new way that he _notices_. 

He notices you falling in love.

“Karkat?” He asks, sitting on the couch next to you, you barely paying attention to the show or movie or whatever is on. “It’s not like you to skip this scene.”

“Seen it a thousand times,” You reply seamlessly. 

“We can change it if you’re bored!” 

“Not bored,” You say. “Just thinking.”

He gives you a curious, scrunched up face that you really happen to like. “About what?”

You hesitate this time in answer, because you’ve told him lots of personal things before, but nothing about how you feel about him. He tilts his head, though, and you’ve already lost the battle.

“About you,” You whisper, hoping that it hides your lovesickness with him. “And how happy you make me.”

A smile blossoms on his face, making your body feel warm, wrapped in all the smiles he could possibly give you. “You make me happy, too, Karkat.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, because you’re allowed to do that, and you love doing it, and sigh. “Awesome,” you reply lamely, but you don’t feel wrong. 

And for a moment, you can pretend that he means that in a different way.

But then he shifts, like you’re leaning on him too hard or making him uncomfortable, and you sort of peer up at him. He avoids your eyes, and you’re wondering what _he’s_ thinking about, when he asks softly, 

“Um, Karkat?”

“Hm?” You hum.

“I know this is sort of an..awkward question to ask,” He says slowly, chewing on his lip. You turn back to the TV. It’s probably not something very big, but big enough for him. You need to make him feel like you’re acting normally, that you won’t pressure him to answer. “But..have you ever..have you ever felt in love?”

A weird question to ask. One that you sort of know, though.

“I thought I did,” You answer solemnly. “And then I didn’t. But, I guess if I had to say it now..yeah, I’ve felt pretty in love.” _Deep_. Too deeply, really, like a lake. Or an ocean. Or a public pool. “Why?”

And it’s that question that silences him. 

You turn your head, fully, back to look at him. “John, why?”

He squints his eyes closed, fully, and then turns to look at you.

What...?

“Sorry,” He apologizes, for seemingly nothing at all. “But, Karkat. I..”

He takes a breath. 

And mumbles, “I might love you.”

Your eyes widen. “ _What?_ ”

“I know!” He exclaims, before you can get another word in. “I’m sorry. It’s weird, and it’s probably inappropriate considering you just broke up with Dave not too long ago, and I really don’t want you to worry about it or me, but Karkat, god, I _love_ you!”

“You..I..”

“You don’t have to say anything, or do anything, or really anything at all,” He says softly, rejecting himself for you. “If you want to stop hanging out with me, or go back to Kanaya and Rose’s...I understand.”

You’re fucking _offended_ he’d think you’d just _run_ away.

“ _Excuse me!?!_ ” 

He turns to you, scared, surprised, hurt. 

And apparently in fucking love. 

“John you blithering, unsightly, godly, idiotic fool! _I’m_ in love with _you!!!_ ” You yell accusingly, as if he just stole that line of thought away from you. Like you should feel plagiarized from. 

“What?!”

“You can’t do that!” You reply, suddenly finding yourself angry and hysterical. “That’s not fair! That’s not in the rules! You were supposed to wait until I fucked up, until I admitted it during an opportune time of being vulnerable, and _you_ were supposed to reject _me_ -”

And suddenly, you’re being kissed. 

Kissed. By John Egbert. 

Title, summary, story, given to the publishers, sold in stores near you. A neat story on how John fills you with love. 

You whimper, ashamed, beaten, slandered, _in love_. 

He kisses you, stealing your oxygen, making your face hot, holding your face gently. Cheater. Bastard. Lunatic. You _love_ him. 

He wasn’t supposed to love you back. 

But he does. John _loves_ you. 

John loves _you._

And you’re a little lost in him already. 

He pulls away, panting, flushed, hair sticking to his forehead you want to brush away. You, the idiot you are, stay where you are, seemingly stuck. Taken aback. Still feeling the pressure of his lips on yours. 

“I love you,” You whisper, too quietly, you’re surprised he hears it. “I love you, so much, you make me so happy, John, I love you, I love you-”

And during your rambling, he kisses your cheek. Face. Nose. He leans back and starts again at your jaw. Lands on your neck. Lowers to your shoulder. Pushes his hands on your shoulders, suddenly your back is against the couch cushions, and he’s above you, kissing you, god, he’s _kissing you_.

“Keep saying it,” He mouths into your shoulder, and because you’ve apparently gone quiet. “Don’t stop.”

“I love you, I love you, John, I love you, I love you, I love-”

He moans, a little short sound, and your body is full of flames. Heat flares where he kisses your skin. His hands have moved from upper body territory to hips, caressing them, caressing _you_ , like you deserve it. It sure _feels_ like you do. 

You pull at him, trying to edge him up again, because you want him to kiss you. He stops his attack on your body and complies, kissing you stupid, and you grip his shirt so tightly you might accidentally rip it off him. Not that it’s a bad idea. He guides your arms around his neck, and then places back his hands, and kisses you deeply off your senses. Your continuous words muffle into the kiss, and you catch them clearly when he pulls away to take a breath, but you pull him back. There’s no leaving yet. You’ll make sure you’re going to die of kissing suffocation. His tongue manages to find a way into your mouth and swipes at your teeth carefully, and oh yeah, this is a good way to die. Life could end now and you’d be peaceful with it. 

You play with his hair, tugging slightly, and he takes revenge by placing himself between your legs, delicious revenge, you can hear the noise he makes when he settles. You swipe your own tongue into his mouth as a distraction, wrapping your legs around him, making him impossibly closer, and the fucking _bastard rolls his hips into you_.

You pull back, gasping, because oh god, oh god, oh god, you think that maybe that’s a little hot. 

“John-!” You gasp breathlessly, and he grunts in response. “Fucker, you fucker, I can’t believe you, you fucking little-”

He rolls his hips again, against you, grinding perfectly, and you realize that maybe you don’t want him to stop. 

“I _might_ ,” He growls, and it takes you a moment to register in your brain properly. 

He _might_. 

Suddenly it’s your goddamn mission to get to his bed. Immediately. A bed you already know from sleeping in, from cuddling in, and now you’re gonna-

“John, bed, bed,” You’re pleading, but you don’t care, you’re grabbing at him and at his face and making you turn to look at you to see your pleading, desperate eyes. “The _bed_ . Not here. _Bed_.”

He understands, and suddenly, you’re hauled up. You fucking squeal. You don’t want to be dropped, but you’ve got your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, and he’s got his strong arms around you, and all those years at slamming and waving around hammers have made him look good as _fuck_. He’s strong. You’re short, but you’re not light, and he’s hauling you around like you’re a stuffed salamander. It’s unfair. 

You’re already up the stairs, though, and he’s already in the room, and he’s dropping you on his bed like you’re a piece of meat and he’s fucking _ravished_. 

You’re nervous, you’re so goddamn nervous, but you don’t want that to stop you now. It’d feel criminal. You pull him towards you and he falls with you, into you, and you sigh happily. 

Someone’s shirt is off before you know it. A pair of pants, joined on the floor by another shirt and socks. You pull and twist and he pulls and twists and you’re both _exposed_ to each other, and he looks at you like the sight is just golden, and maybe you’re eyeing him yourself just a little. And then, the two of you become nervous, and say little, small things, and admit that neither of you have actually done anything like this before. 

“He didn’t…” John trails off, touching you hesitantly, something in his eyes like pride, as if being the first person to do this with you is a treasure. You know he’d look the same if you’d done this before, even if you’d been experienced, but it doesn’t matter. You like how he looks at you. 

“No,” You reply softly, not wanting to think about Dave or think about anyone at all but John. “Not at all.”

Nervousness forgotten, you go slow. Slowly, so slowly, it makes you ache, until you’re ready and until you let him love you from the inside and then you’ve filled yourself to the brim with saying his name. It feels like the bed is a shallow ocean of pillows and softness, waiting for you and John to explore each other slowly and softly and nicely, waiting for you to quicken the pace just a little faster, just a little more sure, and John has you in his arms, and John is kissing you softly, and it’s all just _John John John!_

Someone moans, someone gasps, someone cries out, in love, _so_ in love, so happy, feeling incredibly happy, somehow you’re laughing, and it makes him laugh, and you both laugh as you love, love, love. 

He trails your skin with his long piano fingers, of which few songs have been played for you. You run your hands through his hair, feeling it’s texture, falling in love with it too, whispering softly next to his ear how happy he makes you. He’s shy, something that hits you in a cold daze in the middle of it, and you have to coax his own words out of his mouth gently, slowly, carefully, until he tells you how much he loves you by. His body exempts a warmth you cannot find yourself to escape from, and don’t really much want to, so you pull him impossibly closer and kiss his mouth sore. He’s chapped, and he tastes like popcorn and oranges, a surprising combination since you can’t remember the last time he ate oranges, and his face makes it seem like you taste funny too. Taste weird, taste nice, taste _lovely_ _!_ You can’t seem to get that word out of your mouth yet. You both can’t seem to stop talking, nor can you talk enough. It feels like a movie, or a musical, a music piece that’s getting higher and higher, faster and faster, until it drops that final note _and---!_

And it’s over. 

He groans, tired, pulling away from you, while you try to catch your breath, throw your arm over your eyes, smile because maybe that was something that just happened that you and him quite liked. Maybe enough to do it again. He mumbles something, and you don’t quite catch it, so you ask him to repeat it, just once.

“I love you,” He says, in a final, tired, loving tone, and for some reason it’s the one that drives under your skin to live in you forever, to live with you until you might die from it, and he says it after driving it into you so many times that you’re sure you’re going to be stuck with soreness and lovebites in the morning. You’re scratching at them already. 

“I love you too,” You whisper back, content and happy. 

He pulls his arms around you, holding you close, and you know sleep will fall in you soon. He breathes against you, deeply, like you're his breathable oxygen, and laughs slightly. 

“You smell,” He notes dotingly. “ _Smelly_.”

“I wonder why,” You dimly reply. You kiss him on the corner of his mouth in the hopes it’ll shut him up. 

“Let’s take a shower together in the morning,” He says, and then like a bastard, falls asleep. 

You reply, to no one at all, “Okay,” and then fall asleep too.

* * *

You’re hysterical. Fucking hysterical. All in all, you never thought you’d ever feel this betrayed again. You didn’t think the feelings of the past could come back to haunt you. But it’s so real, so true, and you cry out in pain.

John’s fucking _winning_ at Mario Kart!!!!

“You bitch! You cheating bastard! Stop blue shelling me!!!!”

“Nooooo!” He laughs viciously, evilly, god you can’t believe you love this man at all. “Don’t be in first place and maybe that wouldn’t happen!” 

“I’m going to get your ass, Egbert!” You bite your lips, hard, throwing your controller around like that’ll help. “I’m gonna fuck you over so hard-”

“Nope nope nope nope!” He laughs, hard. “Haha, bullet!”

“ _I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS!_ ” and you jump towards him as he reaches across the finish line, tumbling over him and shaking him wildly by the shoulders. “CHEATING BITCH! MOTHERFUCKER! I EARNED THAT FIRST PLACE AND YOU RIPPED IT OUT OF MY HANDS LIKE CANDY!!”

He’s laughing so hard he’s near crying, and you’re about near ready to strangle him, before the both of you hear the doorbell ring. Oh. Uh oh. You hope it isn’t the neighbors again. Last time they heard you shriek like this, they called the domestic abuse line and you had to convince all the officers that you were _fine_ and your boyfriend _didn’t_ cheat on you, all while John was laughing in the background and you had to edge on your self-control not to flail him right then and there. 

He snorts, and you quickly say, “I’ll get it,” before getting off him. He whistles when you get up, eyeing you from the floor, and you roll your eyes with a smile when you get the door. 

You...really don’t expect him on the other side. 

He’s shuffling, looking into the distance away from you, in an outfit similar to the one he wore at Kanaya and Rose’s house a long time ago. You haven’t even seen him at all since then, so his demeanor surprises you, because really...

He doesn’t look like he’s changed at all. 

“Oh, hey,” He says, noticing you standing at the doorway, voice level and normal. “Didn’t notice you opened the door.”

You stare at him blankly, unaware of what to do, and he waves a hand in your face. 

“Uh, Karkat? You good, my guy?”

Oo, but that makes you snap out of it. 

“I’m not _‘_ _your guy_ _’_ ,” You manage to growl lightly, quietly. “Don’t call me that.”

He looks..surprised by that. “Oh. Okay. Um.”

And then he just stands there. 

You raise a disgruntled eyebrow. “Did you..want something?”

Something flashes across his face, something you’ve seen before, but it’s been far too long away from him that you don’t really know what it is now. You think it’s hurt, from the way _you’re_ acting, and it makes you feel a sense of satisfaction that he really doesn’t see you breaking down in front of him. 

“I,” He starts, rubbing the back of his head. He seems tired. “Just...I came by. To. Y’know. Apologize.”

You stare at him blankly, again. “..apologize.”

“Yeah,” He nods nervously. “If you want to hear it.”

A part of you really doesn’t want to. A part of you beckons to call to John, to slam the door in his face, to turn him away, a _number_ of things you used to want to do. 

But there’s a smaller voice, whispering in your ear, that yeah, maybe you do want to hear the sorry excuse of an apology he has to offer. The worst he could do is make it horrible. 

You call to John, “Hey, I’m stepping outside for a minute!” wait for his response of an, “Okay! Love you! Don’t incriminate us again!” before you close the door behind you, separating whatever _this_ is supposed to be with your life inside. 

“So,” You say, crossing your arms. “Apology.” 

He takes a deep breath in, before letting it out and looking oddly at you. “I..what I did was fucked up. I know that. I know I already told you, but I had so many doubts at the time and it wasn’t because of you, it was just me, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I should’ve just gone to you in the first place.”

You nod, absentmindedly, and think, _but then there wouldn’t have been falling in love with John_. 

“And there’s no excuse for me,” He keeps going, steadily, as if he acted this out beforehand. “I don’t have a good reason that you’ll accept from me. And I know you probably won’t. I don’t know exactly what you’ve been doing since our breakup but..” he looks from you to the door, probably thinking about the way John didn’t hesitate about saying _Love you!_ And maybe wondering if it was something. You hope he’s thinking that, in a selfish way. “I think maybe I deserve this. And you definitely deserve better than me.”

It’s self-deprecating, in a way, which reminds you of all the times of wondering _was I just not good enough_?

But you’re smarter than to fall into it.

“Yeah,” You confirm. “I do.”

His face displays hurt, but he says nothing else of it.

“I’m sorry, for hurting you,” he continues. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I feel..I feel like I still don’t want to lose you, though,” which surprises you. Why would he say that? “You were my best friend, and we understood each other. I don't want to lose that with you. I need you, even if we can't be together. I _need_ you, Karkat."

You..you don't know how to feel. There's this tugging, wailing urge to hug him, to calm him, tell him that you don't want to lose him either, you never had planned to. 

But your mind sticks on the word _need_ . _Need_ is so different from the word _love_ . John _loves_ you. You _loved_ Dave. Dave _needs_ you. 

You don't need Dave. You loved him, and a little part of you still does, the memories and feelings he gave you, but you don't _need him_ . And Dave didn't say he still loved you. He said he _needed_ you. 

But you don't need Dave.

"I don't," you say with clarity. "You might think you need me, Dave, but I don't think you do. And I don't need you."

Dave's eyes flutter to the door again, and you're sure he gets it. _John_. 

On the other side. Waiting for you with a smile and a kiss and a joke. The other side, where the love grew and prospered for you. Where your heart is taken care of beautifully, sweetly, guarded like he guards you from nightmares. On the other side, John loves you. 

And here Dave stands, claiming that he needs you.

"I miss you too," you say. "And I won't push you away. But Dave, the version of _us_ we used to have, that's over. That, to me, is over. There's no going back. And frankly, I don't really want to. We can be friends. But I don't think we'll ever quite reach what we had before."

He seems to swallow thickly, thinking hard. "Okay," he finally responds. And then he asks, "Karkat, can I do one last thing though?"

"What?" You ask, and for some reason, he's leaning towards you. 

Oh. 

It dawns on you he's about to kiss you. And a part of you, the memory of you with him, cries to do so. To kiss Dave one last time. To savor what you had with him.

But John. John flashes through your mind, replacing- no, standing in front of memories with Dave. The arcade, with the lovable salamander plush. The sleepover, the comforting from a nightmare. The love, and the lovemaking, John and you realizing love and feeling love and _making_ love together, until you were both breathless, bound to each other, excited for the next day. John holds you in places Dave's never touched, kissing you in ways he never had, beating you in Mario Kart for the very first time. 

And it's no contest.

You put your hand in front of you, on his chest, and push him away slightly. 

"No," you say softly, shaking your head, confident. "Not anymore, Dave. You can't do that."

He seems to falter, and then finally asks brokenly. "Why?"

And the feeling surges in you. Because you're stronger. Because it's better. Because you're happy.

" _Because I love John_."

He pauses, for a moment, considering something. And then he backs away more, at a comfortable distance, and nods his head.

"He'll treat you right," he says, as if he's trying to convince himself. "He's nice. He's kind. He won't hurt you."

You find yourself agreeing with him. He's like an echo of what you once told Terezi. "He loves me."

"He loves you." Dave takes a breath, shaking with the words, "Enough."

"Enough to make me happy."

Really, though, he loves you more than that, and you know it. But you know Dave won't believe that. So you'll let him believe it's just a little bit more than he ever did. 

"Hope you're happy," he replies, almost gone in his eyes now, seemingly unsettled. 

You smile and answer, "I am."

And finally, _finally_ , he says goodbye. 

And leaves.

You watch him walk into the distance, and even before he's disappeared, you turn around to walk back into the life you enjoy. John doesn't come approaching you when you enter the kitchen, but he has a second cup of hot chocolate already prepared for you, and a warm smile to accompany it. 

"Hey!" He says. "What'd they want?"

"Nothing much," you mutter, attracted to his side and kissing him on his cheek. "Just some talking."

"Hm," he says, already uninterested. You wrap your arms around him, content. "Movie time?"

"Movie time," you confirm, and you grab the other cup in the little help you'll give. You both walk back into the living room, where he pulls the remote out of nowhere, and with practiced hands know what buttons to press to quick-play the already selected movie. 

You settle into his side nicely, where he wraps his hand around you and settles it on your waist, and you lean as close as you can into him, sighing. 

"Love you," you mumble hazily, sipping your cup carefully during the previews.

"Love you too," he replies happily, and there's nothing else to say as the screen goes dark and the movie begins.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna say right now that there's more to this perspective than you know. Yes, Dave cheated, and yes, Karkat fell for John while trying to stumble his way into fixing himself. This side of the journey to healing is about how Karkat isn't alone in it! And that if you seek it, you can find a happy ending for yourself. This just happens to be one where Karkat finds JOHN is his happy ending. 
> 
> I was very unsure about portraying Dave as the cheater here. But, the interesting thing is, I found REASONS for it!! Obviously, this is Karkat's POV, but Dave has an incentive as to why he cheated. Not good reasons, but reasons nonetheless I was more than happy to discover and write about. I will post Dave's POV about it later, and you'll be able to understand what I thought about for the "other side" concerning this whole situation. Looking back on it, I wish I structured some events to correlate with the story more, or at least give it more of a backbone. But I just made point A and wrote to point B, and I'm honestly proud of how this got there!! It's one of my favorites in my drafts. I could go on forever. 
> 
> If you have any comments or questions, feel free to ask them!! I realize there might be some things unconveyed or not written well enough to be considered filling in the cracks. Thanks for reading!! <33


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